Trials
by Talking Bird
Summary: A series of one-shots entailing the "games" played between the Joker and his victims. Warning:Not for the faint of heart. No fluff here, just the Joker at his cruelest.
1. Jackie

**Author's Note**: I don't know how far I'm going to take this but I've had a few ideas that I wanted to run with. I'm a little bored with the stories about the Joker falling in love or whatever. So I made these one-shots to descript his malevolent side. Oh, and I enjoy criticism.

**Disclaimer**: I do not any characters, people, or occurrences that happen in Gotham City. Nor do I own the city itself.

* * *

Jackie woke up surrounded by darkness. She couldn't remember for the life of her where she was or how she got there. She had no clue why she was restrained to a chair and trying to remember left her with a headache and absolute dread.

"Potatoes…I was supposed to get potatoes.." her voice was hoarse and left her mouth tasting of stale blood. A shiver waved through her as she realized the room she was in was freezing. Or was it a room at all? Her teeth chattered at a vigorous tempo as her heart began to race.

'Maybe I'm blind,' she thought. Jackie's breath heightened. A once perfectly healthy woman suddenly became claustrophobic with only the assistance of darkness and silence. Sobs begged to escape Jackie's throat. What could have possibly happened in the last few hours? Or was it days? Jackie felt tortured and trapped before any of the real brutality began. She was already halfway out of her mind before reinforcements were made.

A fluorescent bulb buzzed to life leaving a stunned Jackie to squint some sense into her surroundings. Her vision adjusted revealing a bare room before her. The white windowless walls nearly blinded her.

Then Jackie saw the figure in front of her and she shrieked in horror. A battered woman seated at a vanity gazed at Jackie in wondrous terror. Her reflection was not the same as before she left the grocery store. Her left eye was swollen shut and blood escaped from the corner of her mouth. Knives and other sharp tools lay before her on the vanity table.

Death intruded the poor woman's thoughts when a slow deliberate chuckle sounded from behind her; Jackie instantly knew what was going. Gotham City's personal terrorist, the Joker, found himself a new game to play. Jackie looked up in the mirror and there stood the villain on the news, not ten feet behind her. The clown who had killed and pillaged Gotham relentlessly. She stared into his hollow eyes, she saw his malicious smile, and knew he had awful plans in store for her.

"Hello, Jacquelyn," the Joker giggled. He skipped towards his newest victim and in a wave of panic, Jackie struggled desperately to be free from her bonds.

Her captor halfheartedly tapped the leg of her chair with his shoe and said, "I apologize for the discomfort you must be feeling, but…well, you know how these things are." He cackled uncontrollably at his own words. Once calm again, the Joker stood before Jackie with both hands on the arms of her chair and leaned in close. "Now, you must be pretty darned confused right about now Jackie, huh? That's okay, cause I'm gonna fill you in."

"Please," Jackie whispered in desperation, holding back tears. "I have a family."

"That's the whole point!" The joker sprang up in frustration and strode behind her. He held her shoulders and spoke into her ear, making sure not to break eye contact in the mirror's reflection.

"You're going to project a very strong message to all the dim-witted folk of Gotham City. I won't be hindered by _anyone_! I'll shoot a mother for good sport. Or dice a priest to hear his secular confessions. Hell, I'll even shoot a missionary to see if he bleeds like the rest of us." His voice rose with maniacal fervor.

"I don't care who did what! I'll kill anyone to prove a necessary point. And _your_ point Jackie my dear, is to show that from now on, everyone in Gotham City is fair game." Tears streamed down Jackie's face. Her life was over.

"Oh, hush, hush now, I want to make this fun for the both of us. Which is why…" the Joker stood before the vanity motioning towards the knives in a lavish way. "I'm gonna let you do the dirty work."

"No.." Jackie protested in disbelief. The Joker approached her chair and began to untie her. He freed her wrists but still held them firmly in place.

"Now, I want you to slice your pretty little face like mine! It's really not that hard. With the right leverage and amount of force you'll be smiling in no time! And if you do a good job Jackie, I'll let you go." The Joker ambled to the other side of the room and readied himself for the show.

Jackie stared at herself in the mirror. This couldn't be happening. The surreal circumstances could never happen to her. She was a housewife. How could something so horrible happen to someone like her? With her legs still restrained and trapping her to the chair, Jackie looked down at the knives and utensils. They were rusted and old. Some even had ochre stains of previous use. She gagged at the sight and sank in her chair.

"I can't…"

The Joker sighed in agitation and rose from the floor. In two long strides he approached Jackie and struck her in the head with his handgun. With a firm grip of her hair he pulled her head back an growled, "If you don't start cooperating, I'll have someone take care of your husband."

Jackie stared back at her reflection again. Tears blurred her vision, but did not change the reality surrounding her. She picked up a small knife and hesitantly place it in the corner of her mouth. The steel was cold and caused her to shudder. The Joker giggled in anticipation in his seat.

Jackie breathed in deep and swiftly sliced the left side of her mouth. She instantly screamed and howled in pain as blood spurted from her cheeks. The Joker laughed uncontrollably. Her mouth seared like fire but Jackie was determined. With collected composure, she once again placed the knife in her mouth and between sobs completed the glasgow smile. She cried out in pain again and attempted to stop the bleeding, but continuous flow of crimson would not end.

Still laughing, the Joker stood and cut off the zip ties restraining Jackie's legs. He threw her to the floor and started beating and kicking her brutally. She screamed as loud as her voice would allow, resulting in her face to split apart even more. Jackie was paralyzed in agony. Blood poured in and around her mouth. It seeped into her throat and began to choke her. Jackie gasped for air that would not come.

The Joker, now bored with his game, began to leave. He opened the unlocked door and said between giggles, "Feel free to leave when you see fit…See ya around Jackie." He turned the lights out and left, leaving Jackie to convulse for air, and bleed to death.


	2. Brett

**Author's note**: Okay here's part two. I've been thinking about it, and I think I'll write five of these one-shots in this collection. I already have a few ideas, but I'm open for other opinions. Again, I love constructive criticism! Let me know what you think. I also apologize for the use of the onomatopoeia, I'm really not of fan of them, but i had to.  
**Disclaimer**: I do not own any thing, person, or occurrence from Gotham City. I don't even own the city itself. And of course, the Ramones wrote_ I wanna be sedated.  
_

* * *

"Damnit, not again," Brett Harris cursed under his breath. He was about to perform at a downtown bar in Gotham City. To his dismay, the bar was nearly empty save for a handful of late night regulars. Embarrassment seeped through Brett having to play the same set to the same people as last week. Nonetheless, the show must go on. The young man took a swig of God-knows-what from his flask and headed out onto the small stage.

Brett seated himself at the spotlighted stool and did his best to mesmerize his small audience.  
"Hello everyone, my name's Brett Harris," he crooned into the microphone before him. No one seemed to notice.  
'The price of being a starving artist,' Brett thought. 'No one ever gives a rat's ass…' Persistent in his efforts, Brett adjusted the mic stand and started his set.

Song after song, the musician dulled his dwindling audience into states of near drunken comas. A man gurgled out frustrated obscenities. A woman fell off her barstool. It was times like these when Brett questioned his passion. His time was running out, so he sadly played his last song and thanked the crowd. A few hands politely clapped, but one deliberate pair loudly stood out from the others. Brett squinted past the spotlight to identify his fan. Curiosity instantly turned to fear as he realized it was the Joker himself, jeering clapping. The freakish clown and his henchmen decided to stop by for a few drinks.

"Bravo…Bravo," the mad man sneered. A drunken woman shrieked.

"I know who you are!" she began. Her babblings however were interrupted by a henchman's rifle. The woman fell to the floor dead, and the bar went silent. Brett was frozen in terror. Stage fright took a whole new meaning.

"Now, Brent—its Brent right? —I _loved_ your music. Really. It spoke to me." The Joker's false sincerity cracked as his demented laugh escaped his bright red lips. "The thing is Brent, somebody's gotta die. However I am willing to make this fun for all of us. You know, sharing is caring and all that jazz." The Joker let out a giggle and turned to the rest of the people in the bar. The henchmen surrounded them blocking any possible escape route.

"Listen very carefully everyone, because this may be the last time you get to use your pretty little ears." Brett still sat on stage, waiting for his gloomy fate. "Here's hoe this will play out boys and girls. I want to hear an encore number from this upstanding musician. If he's not dead before the song ends, the rest of you will be. Aaaaaaand…go!"

Pandemonium erupted in the bar. Shock waved through Brett as he realized his life was in the hands of a group of drunken people. The barkeep hopped over the bar to join the group. One man was screaming at another about the madness of the situation. A woman was crying under a table. Thousands of cover songs relayed through Brett's mind, searching for the shortest song he knew.

"We don't have to do this!" the seemingly only sane man in the room said. "Don't you see we're only part of his sick game. We don't have to play!"

"There's only one way out of here, and we all know it's by killing the kid." Another man said while breaking a bottle into a weapon. "It's him or us!"

Brett sat silently trying extremely hard not to avert any attention to himself. His mind was still reeling; searching for a song that could save his life.

The woman in hysterics crawled out from under the table. She drunkenly stumbled to a masked henchman and pleaded her case.

"Please…Let me go an I'll do anything! Please, I'm still in college…I'm too young!" The man heartlessly shoved her to the floor and the woman continued to cry at his feet.

"Let's just try to talk about this." The sane man said to the panicked group.

"There's no time!" The bartender shouted.

"What do you even mean by that? Brett hasn't even started a song! What happens when we don't kill him and he doesn't sing?" Everyone in the bar (including the henchmen) turned to the Joker at this question. He was seated at the bar comfortably by this point. He took a shot and looked up at everyone. His face pinched at the liquor's burn and he grinned smugly.

"Then I kill everyone."

The angry man with the bottle started towards Brett. In a panic the singer stood prepared to run. The man defending Brett however stopped the attacker.

"Let's just hear what Brett has to say about this!"

The people went silent and looked up at Brett on stage. Even the Joker turned from his drinking to see what would happen. Fear flooded through Brett. He gazed at every other victim in this mess: the barkeep, the crying woman, the armed man, and the poor guy trying to help. He felt like he was at a spelling bee: trying to impress everyone on the spot. Finally Brett opened his mouth and discovered what to say.

"_Twenty-twenty-twenty-four hours to go…_" Brett slowly sang, his hands chimed in and strummed along at a faster tempo. "_I wanna be sedated._"

For a split second, everyone stared in disbelief, which swiftly transformed into rage.

"Get him!" someone shouted and all four victims swarmed towards the stage.

Brett unplugged his guitar and continued to frantically play acoustically.

"_Nothing to do nowhere to go…I wanna be sedated."_ The miniature mob had reached the stage as Brett leapt from his perch and continued to sing at a faster pace.

"_Just get me to the airport put me on a plane. Hurry, hurry, hurry. Before I go insane. I can't control my fingers I can't control my brain, oh no no no no no…."_

The woman reached Brett and attempted to attack him, but she staggered and fell. The man with the bottle tripped over the woman and fell on his own shards. The Joker laughed uncontrollably. He slapped his knees with glee and clutched his stomach delightfully.

"_Twenty-twenty-twenty four hours to go.... Just put me in a wheelchair, get me on a plane. Hurry, hurry, hurry, before I go insane. I can't control my fingers I can't control my brain, oh no no no no no…"  
_The bartender approached Brett in his desperate attempt. The young man continued to sing as fast as he could and avoid death simultaneously. Brett swung around and hit the bartender in the head with the neck of his guitar. The injured man fell to the ground where he remained completely still.

"_Twenty-twenty-twenty four hours to go I wanna be sedated. Nothin' to do and no where to go-o-o I wanna be sedated. Just put me in a wheelchair get me to the show, hurry, hurry, hurry, before I go loco. I can't control my fingers I can't control my toes, oh no no no no no…"  
_Brett's heart raced with hope. He was going to live! The song neared its end and Brett's awareness loosened. The Joker watched his game play out with excitement. His macabre smile grew even bigger in climatic anticipation.

"Ba-ba-bamp-ba ba-ba-ba-bamp-ba I wanna be sedated. Ba-ba-bamp-ba ba-ba-ba-bamp-ba I wanna be sedated. Ba-ba-bamp-ba ba-ba-ba-bamp-ba I wanna be sedated. Ba-ba-bamp-ba ba-ba-ba-bamp-ba I wanna be—"

CLUNK

A large vodka bottle collided into the back of Brett's head. His body went limp as he slumped to the ground. He looked up in horror to meet his attacker. The man who had defended him stood above him with a menacing look in his eyes. The man wildly jumped in top of Brett and began to strangle him. His grip was impenetrable no matter how much Brett struggled and fought. Brett's defense weakened and gradually slowed down to one last attempt to live. Tears welled in his eyes as he gazed at what the Joker had turned a kind sensible man into.

"I'm sorry," The man pleaded. His gripped stayed firm until the young man was still and stopped breathing forever.

The de-virgined murderer stoically rose and approached the Joker with nothing else to lose.

"He didn't finish the song. Let me go," he enunciated the words slowly and firmly as if talking to a child. The Joker smiled.

"Go ahead. No one's stopping you," Police sirens wailed in the distance like an alarm clock. The Joker fished a pocket watch from his breast pocket and sighed in a histrionic way. "I'd _love_ to stay and chat about this new little notch on your bedpost, but I'm late for a verrry important date. See you later!" The Joker and his team sprinted to the back room and disappeared through an unknown exit.

The man sighed as shameful tears formed in the creases of his eyes. He started to leave but something caught his attention at the bar.

Exactly where the Joker had been sitting was some sort of apparatus. It looked like a hand-made alarm clock with brightly colored wires spurting from all over. The digital countdown had reached its last five seconds; a makeshift bomb almost at zero. In horrific realization, the man raced to escape only to find the main entrance chained shut. Shortly after, him and the others were engulfed in an explosion of flames.


	3. Linda

**Here's another installment! I was kind of inspired by this by my mother. She left to go on vacation and I've had to take her place as the caretaker of the home. It's a tough job being a mom... I'd love some reviews! pretty please with a cherry on top! Well, enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything from or relating to Batman or DC Comics.  
**

* * *

Linda stepped into her car in a frustrated rush. Her sons had never been in so much trouble that they had to be removed from school for the day, and she was furious. Linda may just be a stay at home mom, but she was a busy woman nonetheless. She had a roast in the oven. Laundry needed to be done. And her so-called rebellious eleven-year-olds were disrupting her schedule.

"That damn roast better not burn…" Linda scoffed as she sped away through the traffic of Gotham City.

Don't mistake Linda's frustration. She loved her sons, Alex and Jude. Twin boys were never a part of her and her husband's plans, but they were her world. Which was why a prank like cherry bombs in the school's toilets made her so angry. Motherhood was her _job. _When Alex and Jude stray towards delinquency, it's a failure on her part. Who would want criminals in the making as the purpose of their existence? Sheltering prepubescent boys in Gotham City was tough enough, and that was only half of Linda's life; there was her husband to worry about too…

Linda parked at Gotham Elementary and headed towards the looming ochre walls of the ancient grade school. Budget cuts were blatantly obvious as age and lack of proper care atrophied the entire building, inside and out.

As Linda's flats pit-patted towards the principal's office she tried desperately to fix her unkempt hair and smooth out her skirt (the woman left in such a rush that she completely forgot her inappropriate appearance for the public eye).

Upon reaching the office's heavy wooden door, she knocked twice and swiftly entered. Seated before the principal's desk were Alex and Jude, in tears and frightened.

"Mom…" Jude began, but Linda raised a hand to silence him.

"Not. Another. Word. You two are already in enough trouble in my book." Linda's glare and sharp tone softened as she turned her attention to the back of the chair behind the Principal's desk.

"Principal Howard, I'm so sorry about my boys, and I will pay for all of the damage. Alex and Jude will even help clean up the mess."

"But mom, that's not— "

"What did I say young man? I don't want to hear it."

"No, mom! You don't understand. We didn't do anything!"

"Then how do you explain the annihilated restroom?" Linda interrogated. She had dealt with fibs before.

"There is no destroyed bathroom! That's not even the principal," Alex explained, pointing to the desk as tears escaped once more.

"Oh yeah? Then where's the real principal, Alexander? Did he just disappear?" Her sons' eyes quickly darted to the other side of the office. Linda glanced over and there in a lump of bloody carnage, laid the remains of Principal Howard, skewered beyond recognition.

"Oh my god…" Linda whispered. Panic swept through her and left her in a state of paralysis. She was frozen in her own terrified nightmare: The massacred man at their feet, her poor sons staring in helpless need, and the danger that surrounded all three of them.

And then in horrified remembrance, Linda's heart threatened to leap from her chest pulse loudly in her ears, Who sat before them behind the desk? Her question was answered with a low crawling laugh.

The swivel chair turned slowly, revealing the menacing Joker before the frightened family.

"Thank you for coming down here today, Mrs. Bryant. Your boys are uh, quite a handful," The Joker sneered and smiled at Linda. She grabbed her sons and stood to escape but was halted by a handgun pointed at her face.

"We still have so much to discuss. _Sit_." Linda slowly sat, glaring at the criminal mastermind before her. The Joker smiled and with a smack of his crimson lips, continued.

"Mrs. Bryant. Your sons are really just positively lovely. But…our faculty just can't keep up with them." The Joker chuckled at the thought. Him, the clown prince of crime, the _principal_ of Gotham Elementary. "So we're going to place them in a special program."

"What kind of program are you suggesting?" Linda inquired through gritted teeth. She was nearing loss of control hanging by a thread of calm, but she knew she needed to be strong. For her boys. The Joker giggled in satisfaction as he neared his sadistic punch line.

"Well, we think that little Alex and Jude spend too much time together. So we're gonna separate 'em! One's gonna leave alive, while the other…well he'll check out in a body bag." He erupted in a fit of uncontrollable laughter as Linda reached her stage of paralysis once again. _One of her sons would die_. At last, her self-control fled. Her wall of sanity, that one thread, broke loose.

"You sick bastard! You're out of your mind! You can't do this, they're just children!" she cried. Her outburst caused the twins to realize the horrible truth and they began to cry. The Joker, displeased with Linda's sudden sense of bravery felt a fit of rage wash over. He had to show who was in charge. He swiftly stood and grabbed the woman by the throat.

"I can. And I will. Your little rules of society might help you when you're playing fucking house, and pretending to be Betty Crocker, but they mean _nothing_ in my kingdom of chaos." He shoved her back into her seat, and he sat as well.

"You my dear get the honor of choosing who gets to die," The Joker's sickly cheerful tone returned once again. "So tell me Linda. Who do you love more?"

Was this psycho serious? He honestly expected her to choose between her two sons? It was impossible. It was like choosing between brain damage or heart failure. The bubonic plague or malaria.

_Alex or Jude._

She just couldn't do it. The Joker knew this, and he loved watching Linda squirm.

"I can't…please…kill me instead," she pleaded.

"No, no, no, that won't do, Linda. Your family needs you. Or rather, what will be left of it. Now tell me who you love more, or I'll just be forced to kill them both. I don't really mind."

Linda's head sunk into her hands and the Joker smiled victoriously. Sobs leapt from her throat. She breathed in deep and at last opened her mouth mournfully to comply.

"Jude…" she whispered. "I love Jude." The two boys clung to one another and continued to cry as they watched their mother sob and their attacker stare intently silent.

"Alex," The Joker beckoned. The boy stared in horror at the Glasgow monster, awaiting his fate.

"Go back to class." Alex sat still, bewildered at his command. The Joker sighed impatiently and stood to remove the boy from the room. He roughly grabbed Alex's arm and dragged the struggling boy out of the office.

"Nice meeting you!" The Joker shouting before slamming the door shut and locking it behind him. Linda continued to cry. The Joker raised her to her feet by the shoulders and stared.

"Linda, this is your son…so it's your job to take care of him." He placed the handgun in her hands. Linda stared in horror and agony. "It's got one bullet. And I wouldn't try pulling a fast one on me." He removed another pistol from his breast pocket. "Cause I came with backup."

Jude, a crying mess, stared at his gunslinging mother. His potential killer.

"Mom, please. I love you. I don't wanna die." Linda held the gun with shaking hands, and at last took aim at her son's face.

"I'm so sorry, Jude," she whispered. She cocked the pistol and shakily placed a finger on its trigger. Jude squinted his eyes shut, bracing himself for oblivion.

Quickly before she could be stopped, Linda placed the gun in her own mouth and pulled the trigger. Fragments of cerebrum and membrane jolted through the back of her head and Linda collapsed to the floor, lifeless.

The Joker grimaced at his backfired game. He sat once again behind the desk and sighed in frustration.

"Damnit, I hate when that happens." Jude fell at his dead mother's side, crying with greater fervor than ever.

"Mom, please don't be dead…" The eleven-year-old boy cradled Linda's body. _He was motherless_. The most influential woman in his young life was now gone.

Jude was now in hysterics and continued to cry uncontrollably. The Joker looked down getting gradually more annoyed. Several minutes later, the boy had not stopped crying, and the Joker could stand no more. He rose and started to leave the office. Upon passing Jude, he effortlessly shot the boy in the head.

"That oughta shut you up…" he whispered. The Joker left the school feeling unaccomplished and ready to begin a new game.


	4. Haley

**A/N: Thank you for reading, I really, reaaaallly would appreciate some reviews. I'm a growing writer, and I need feedback so I can work with my mistakes. I'm a little discouraged that I don't know what people think. Anyways, I hope you enjoy, I'm doing my best to portray the Nolan Joker. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything from or related to Batman Begins or The Dark Knight.  
**

* * *

Downtown Gotham was no walk in the park; Haley knew that. Mashappenings occurred everyday to the witnesses of terrified citizens who never testify. People are mugged, killed, or worse all the time. Haley knew all of this as she trekked through the narrows. She remembered all the warnings from her mother. She remembered the self-defense classes in health. She just didn't listen to them.

Haley was not like all the other teeny-bopper seventeen-year-olds of South Gotham High School: she could take care of herself. She didn't' need a boyfriend to walk her home, or surveillance cameras to make her feel secure. Hell, she didn't even need to carry around pepper spray. She reminded herself this every time she went to the most seedy parts of the city to buy cheap drugs.

Every Thursday night at an abandoned harbor on the south side, Haley waited for her dealer. She remembered the anti-drug speeches and the catchy drug-free commercials. She would laugh at that too.

_You try being clean with all the crap in my life…_ she'd always say in response.

On a March evening, Haley waited for her dealer, just like any other Thursday to bring her a piece of elation, and maybe introduce her to some bliss. Eventually as the sun finally blinked out of Gotham, a beat up Taurus pulled into the harbor, and out came a young man, not a day other thirty.

"Hey Ernie," Haley sighed. Of course that probably wasn't even the man's real name, but as a loyal customer for the past year, the two comfortably agreed on the alias.

"Hello Haley. I've got the usual for you." The two swiftly made an exchange: a few twenties for a small bag of white euphoria.

"Thanks man. I'll see you next week then?"

"Here, let me show you something else. I learned a new trick," Ernie added. He held out his left hand. Haley hadn't noticed he had a can of whipped cream in it the entire time. She was too preoccupied with her anxieties of getting busted.

"It's pretty childish, but _whip-its _will give you a good feeling for a little while. I thought we could try it and leave on even better terms than usual."

Haley eyed the can in suspicion. She didn't normally get high in public. God knows what kind of people are out there to mess with her. But she shrugged off her worries anyway and took the can.

"What the hell, why not." The two inhaled nearly half the can until Ernie decided to leave.

Haley was dizzy. Her heart was dancing in her chest and her eyes were flitting all over. She sat down against the grimy bulkhead to wait off the side effects. She couldn't tell which was the culprit, but either the chill night air or the inhalant made her entire body shake.

"Note to self: _whip-its_ are not my thing…" Haley moaned. The cocking of a gun however interrupted her thoughts. She raised her head in absolute confusion to find a rifle right in her face. The arms wielding the ghastly weapon belonged to a clown.

"Let's go. Get up," the masked man grunted. Haley stared at the clown dubiously. Not in her right mind, she replied,

"Where are we going? The circus? Sorry but I'm a little too old for clowns."

Impatient and running out of time, the masked gunslinger grabbed Haley's arm roughly and lifted her to her feet. Under normal circumstances, Haley would fight the mad man off and have a chance of survival. When she tried to execute the same idea however, her knees buckled and her head spun. The clown gave an exasperated sigh and dragged the inebriated teenager into the old marina shop not ten feet away.

Inside Haley was surrounded by a motley circus of killers with their ringleader in the center, smirking.

"Hello, _Ha-ley_," The Joker drawled. "How are you? High as a kite I presume?" The sneering voice reverberated in Haley's brain and the shop filled with laughter. With her head still spinning, she shut her eyes to focus; she was coming down, but not fast enough. Her legs still begged to give in. Nearly collapsing, she had to lean on the counter to remain standing.

"I'll take it from here boys, " The Joker ordered. One by one, the henchmen filed out of the room, the last one removing his mask, and leaving it on the counter. Haley was left alone with the biggest freak show in all of Gotham City.

"What do you want?" she asked curtly.

"Well that's obvious now isn't it, my dear? I want you dead. Of course I could have shot you long ago, but that would have been so boring! Yes, after watching you for a while, I've decided to mess with your pretty little head. Or…at least what's left of it." The Joker laughed at his own malicious thoughts. The dark secrets in the back of his twisted head tingled and yearned to escape. With gloved fingers, he gingerly lifted two large white bottles and presented them to his hostage. Haley stared in confusion.

"Bleach?" she scoffed incredulously. "You're going to kill me with bleach?"

"Did you know you can get an _amazing_ high by sniffing bleach" he chimed condescendingly.

"I've never head that…and I've heard a lot of crazy things before…" Haley said quietly, moreso to herself than the Joker. Haley was becoming impatient, but so was the Joker's gun. Somewhere in the shadows of the harbor, she heard a scream; the rest of the circus had found an audience.

"You know Haley, drugs are a very unhealthy obsession."

"I can think of worse," she said, eyeing the huge rifle in his arms. Her assailant chuckled, but rage grew behind his eyes. Unexpectedly, the Joker threw a strong right hook to Haley's jaw that sent the weak girl flying. She stumbled beneath him and in the chaos made a desperate attempt to scramble to the door and escape. Her sloth-like nervous system didn't help her muscles though. The Joker didn't even have to struggle to drag Haley away by her hair and seat her before the bleach once again.

"Now listen closely my dear. You've _actually_ got a fifty-fifty shot at living here! And let me tell you something: that's fifty percent more than a lot of other people. All you have to is pick a bottle."

Haley stared at the clown in annoyed suspicion.

"That's all?" she chimed mockingly. "Please, don't patronize me, I live in the projects for Christ's sake…What's the vital catch that you fail to mention?"

The Joker smirked and looked down at Haley from his perch on the counter. His feet swung like that of a child.

"Clever, clever, aren't we? Well I can tell you're a woman of business…from that orderly transaction you just recently made, so I'll get to the point." The Joker mockingly scowled at the floor beneath him and continued.

"This floor is absolutely filthy. And I would _love_ for you to clean it. But if you're familiar with chemistry, you'll understand the huuuge mistake I made. Apparently, you can't mix bleach with ammonia! The two chemicals seemingly fuse together and form a deadly toxin."

The cogs in Haley's mind turned, trying to make sense of the Joker's little chemistry lesson. The Joker paused and the air was thick with tension; apparently as allegedly dramatic pause on the Joker's part. Haley stared with nervous impatience, waiting for a point to be made. The Joker returned the gesture with a devilish smile as he stroked his rifle.

"One of these bottles is just regular old bleach. It won't hurt…well except maybe your skin a little. However, the other bottle is filled with our friend chlorine gas. I was really only trying to make a super cleaning agent for you." He knelt in front of Haley, making escape from his horrific hollow eyes impossible. He stared solemnly.

"You my dear, are a very dirty woman. It's time to clean up your act." The Joker rose and returned to his seat at the counter. He grabbed the mask previously left by his employee and slipped it over his ghoulish face.

"You can start um…_scrubbing_ whenever you're ready." He giggled in a muffled voice behind the mask. Haley's eyes flickered from the Joker to the two bottles of Clorox She knew this wasn't a riddle for her to piece together. It was a live or die deal. It was Russian roulette; door number one, or door number two; the lady or the tiger.

"Choose one, or both, I don't really care. But you _are_ opening one of those tonight."

"How…can you expect me to choose something like this so casually?" She asked in a panic.

"Well, I could just shoot open the bottle I like for you. You might not like _my_ decision though."

Haley's heart was dancing again, but out of pure hysteria. She silently stared at her captor in pleading hope, but it was no use. The Joker was persistent in seeing his game play out. Haley exhaled in submission. She was no closer to coming to a decision, so it was time for destiny to intervene. With closed eyes, Haley reached out her hands and grabbed the bottle she came in contact with first. She opened the bottle and emptied it all over the moldy floorboards. With bare shaking hands, Haley swept the Clorox in a pool around her. It soaked through her jeans and chilled her knees. The pungent smell of bleached stung her nostrils. A minute had passed, and she felt fine. She smiled at the Joker, and he stared back through his makeshift gas mask patiently. Haley scrubbed for several minutes until spots formed in the corners of her eyes. They hopped and leapt across her field of vision. She waved a hand in front of her eyes in suspicion.

"Probably just _whip-its_…" Haley muttered. But at that moment her lungs fluttered and pounded against her chest plate. The pain was so sudden and powerful; Haley fell back with the wind knocked out of her. Gasping for breath, Haley had realized she had picked the wrong bottle. She had lost the game. Her lungs were deteriorating. They were flaking away at a rapid pace, but not rapid enough to end the pain. She could not hide her distress as she shrieked in agony. Haley's bloodcurdling screams were responded by an amused chuckle. The Joker stood above her. His eyes glowed behind the mask. Haley was defeated. The fumes filled the air and shut down nearly every organ in her body until she was ready to close her eyes for the last time. Her last sight was the feet of a mad man skipping around her in victory…

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The Joker kicked the remains of Haley, confirming her death. He looked down with a sliver of sanity and speculated the young woman. She was so small and frail looking…. Who'dve thought…a crackhead…And as quickly as Haley had died, the Joker's mood died faster. He was ready to move on to a new project. Another life to shatter. He fished through Haley's pocket until he found what he was looking for: her white euphoria. With a last glance, he turned and left the shop. The bay breeze swept through the Joker's being. He looked out over the harbor and cast the small bag into the dark waters.

"Drugs'll kill ya…" he said with finality and left to find his circus of henchmen.

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**A/N: So there's installment four...I hope you liked it! Please review! I'd love some criticism, I thrive off of that stuff.**


	5. The Joker

**A/N: Hey everyone, thank you for the reviews, I appreciated the feedback and I'm working on improvement. Here's just a little oneshot that's centrally based around the Joker. All the other pieces in this series are about the victims so I thought I'd change it up a little bit. So enjoy!**

Disclaimer: I do not own anything that comes from Gotham City.  
  
The Joker was angry. There was no denying it. His disfigured smile twitched and turned into a horrible contradicting grimace. Somewhere in his head, fury was raging on…. But why? He paced back and forth in the hideout, mumbling obscenities with clear agitation. His men just watched with wary curiosity. Why was he in such a horrible mood? His most recent antic was a success…sure, the mother he victimized a few weeks ago didn't go according to plan, but that goes with the territory; plans backfire. That couldn't be the reason why he was so cross.  
Something wasn't right. It was evident to all four henchmen watching. The Joker enjoyed his job (if you'd call it a job). He always kept sort of a cheerful disposition. Cheerfully malevolent at least. He was definitely insane, but within reason.  
"No, no, we couldn't do that…" The Joker muttered to himself. His pace was quickening and his brow seemed permanently furrowed. He ran his hands through his dirty hair with such force, it seemed like he would tear it all out. Finally, the curiosity was killing all four men.  
"Boss…you alright?" Someone had finally spoken up. The Joker continued to pace as if he hadn't heard, but as quick as a flash, he darted over to his talkative worker and plunged a switchblade into his abdomen. The man, who had just innocently asked a question shrieked in pain and stared frightened at his leader. The Joker's brown eyes seemed to blaze red in the rage he was in. In one quick motion he turned the blade and felt the ribs between it. The man screamed in agony as the Joker yanked the knife away. The henchman fell to the floor in a mass of blood and flesh.  
"Any more questions?" The Joker turned to his remaining men. His eyes viciously scanned through his company, knife still in hand. They all silently shook their heads; the alpha male had regained his power.  
"Good. Now where is he?" he asked, anger still flickering in his eyes. The henchmen remained silent. No one wanted to be the one to answer the question. Their mouths were shut in fear, yet they prayed one of their coworkers would gather the courage. Finally, one stepped forward and said,  
"The um. First door on the left." His eyes were glued to the floor and his voice was barely audible.  
"Excellent," The Joker remarked in a not too excellent manner. He walked down the hall and entered the room where the alleged "he" was contained.  
The three henchmen waited as still as statues for their boss to return. No one knew who "he" was, but they sure felt bad for him. The listened in silence to the laughter of their employer, and the helpless screams of a complete stranger.

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**A/N: So thank you very much for reading, and I hope you liked it! Please review, and have a nice day!**


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